


baby's all dressed up with nowhere to go

by goldfynches



Category: Fight Club (1999), Fight Club - Chuck Palahniuk
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood, Blood and Injury, Choking, Crossdressing, Degradation, Dom/sub, Hair-pulling, Light Feminization, M/M, Name-Calling, Spit As Lube, Spit Kink, author was tipsy when he came up with this idea, doing my best to mimic chuck's style, extensive references to prom, please use real lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:22:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23723773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldfynches/pseuds/goldfynches
Summary: it's an ugly dress.
Relationships: Tyler Durden/Narrator
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	baby's all dressed up with nowhere to go

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by marla's bridesmaid's dress and her saying "i'll lend it to you sometime", gin and lemonade and copious amounts of lana del rey.  
> title comes from carmen by lana del rey.  
> did my best to copy chuck palanhiuk's style and that just led to me stealing lines from the book. oops?

It’s an ugly dress.

That was what I first thought when I saw Marla in it, swishing the uneven hem, pinched between her thumb and forefinger with the savagely bitten nails. I don’t know what I expected from a Goodwill dress that cost a dollar. The taffeta looks chewed. Loose threads and moth holes. All in a sickly shade of organ-pink, a barbie doll left in the rain and bleached by the sun. 

It doesn’t look any better on me. Not by any means. The straps slip off my shoulders and I have no breasts to fill it out. The pink washes me out, makes my skin look a horrible grey. The ragged hem hits below my knees. An awkward length, made all the worse by my hairy legs. 

Tyler laughs when he sees me in it, appearing behind me in the mirror.

He always appears like that. Not a sound, not a smell. There one second, gone the next. A sleight of hand trick I can never crack, no matter how close I watch. 

His hands rest on my hips. Large, warm, the scar of his own lips on the back of one palm. They’re heavy and insistent, thumbs rubbing against my hip bones.

“Maybe it suits you,” Tyler says, “Looking all pretty. A girl on her way to prom.”

His voice is low, his lips so close to my ear it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. His breath is hot. All of him is hot. A furnace that burns my fingertips every time I reach out to touch him.

I don’t reach out. My hands swing uselessly by my side. I feel like I’m running on fumes.

Tyler’s hands grip my hips tight enough to bruise. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“So fucking pretty.” Tyler says.

Soft. Reverent. 

I look stupid, I say.

I don’t see what he sees. I see a man, his face mottled with bruises, swollen in places, skin loose in others, in an ugly dress that doesn’t fit him. 

Tyler’s lips are close to my neck. His breath on my skin. His hands on my hips. My head spins.

“Are you gonna put out, princess?”

One of Tyler’s hands, the one blessed with the scar in the shape of his kiss, wanders downward. His fingertips trail over my thigh. I suck in a breath through my teeth.

His other hand grips my jaw. Each fingertip seems to find exactly where my teeth are coming loose and it hurts. An exquisite shock of pain that makes my toes curl. He jerks my face to the side enough to kiss me.

I don’t think I can call it a kiss. He’s biting at my lips. I taste blood and cigarette smoke in my mouth. His tongue scrapes the ribcage ridge on the roof of my mouth before he pulls away, leaving me breathless and reeling, like he’d thrown a punch at me instead.

Tyler has bitten the skin on my lips enough to make me bleed. His fingers smear the blood over my lips. I watch his face as he does it, the familiar glint in his eye that means he’s thinking of something he’s particularly proud of, the part of his lips that shows me the chip in his tooth from a fight club I don’t remember. 

“Look,” Tyler says, “All pretty and made up for me.”   
His hand is back on my jaw, pulling my face to look at my reflection again. The blood on my lips looks almost like a deranged form of lipstick. My punched out eyes could be eyeshadow, if you squint. I have to squint. His fingers digging into my cheeks hurt, and I imagine the fingertip bruises that will be there come morning.

Tyler’s other hand is busy. It brushes over the front of the dress, almost distracted. It feels like he’s testing for my reaction. Isn’t he always? Pushing my buttons, even the ones he already knows. Finally, his hand is close enough to my cock to make my chest heave with a sharp breath, and I’m rewarded by Tyler’s reflection flashing me a grin before he takes his hand away.

I am Joe’s rapidly approaching hard on.

“Are you desperate for it already?”

Tyler’s voice is soft and teasing, almost muffled as he traces his lips against my neck. I tilt my head to the side and bare my throat to him. A wild animal is waiting to rip out my throat and I hope he does it. And I used to be such a normal guy.

“Nobody ever give you attention like this, princess?” 

A hand is creeping up the bodice of the dress. It slips in the side and kneads at my chest, where a breast should be. With Tyler’s palm against my chest, I almost fill out the cup. I let out a shaky breath and he thumbs at my nipple. The touch is rough, like everything with Tyler is rough. I don’t complain. I don’t want to complain.

Then Tyler’s blunt nails are digging into my nipple and I can’t help but cry out.

“I asked you a question.” Tyler says.

No, I say.

I’m trying not to writhe as Tyler twists.

No.

The touch disappears just as suddenly as it appeared. His hand is skimming my side, going to rest back on my hip. His lips are against my neck, wet, open-mouthed kisses that threaten to make my knees weak. 

Without warning, Tyler sinks his teeth into my neck. Sharp and mean, white-hot pain that makes me grab desperately for his shoulder. I gasp and the heat in the pit of my gut coils like a snake. I’m sure he would be laughing at me if he wasn’t otherwise occupied. 

He finally releases me, but I feel like I’m still caught on his teeth. A prey animal caught in a trap. In a trap it could see and walked into, hoping for destruction.

Destroy me, Tyler.

Take me apart, Tyler.

His tongue is hot against the sharp points of pain he left on my neck.

I am Tyler’s to hurt.

Tyler’s hands find my ass through the layers of taffeta and polyester and squeeze. 

“Come on, princess.”

Then he’s tearing off down the hall, leaving me to catch my breath in front of the mirror. I nearly trip over myself trying to follow after him. He laughs at the staccato thump of my footsteps, the laugh that sounds like he’s putting it on but I know he’s not. 

Tyler’s waiting for me in the doorway to his bedroom, and he catches me by surprise. Taking two handfuls of the bodice of the dress and dragging me inside, pressing his mouth to mine in a crushing kiss. I groan into his mouth, and I feel his lips curl into a grin. Tyler looks like a shark when he smiles. I can’t see it this time. 

The hands fisted in the dress drag me over to the bed and he shoves me backwards. I let myself fall. I trust Tyler, perhaps more than I should. He’s the one trying to drive me towards rock bottom.

I welcome my destruction with open arms.

How couldn’t I, when it’s grinning down at me like it wants to tear me apart?

Tear me apart, Tyler.

Rip me to shreds and leave nothing behind.

Hurt me. I’ll beg for it if I have to.

I am Joe’s premature autopsy.

Tyler plants his knees either side of my hips and looms over me, caging me in with his arms. Arms littered with self-administered cigarette burns. The same arms I saw choke a man out two days ago. 

I’m sure Tyler can read my thoughts. He places a hand over my throat, thumb tucked right under the jut of my jawbone, and he squeezes.

All I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears and Tyler’s breathing, shallow and quick like when he fights. I twitch under his touch, my fingers twisting in the sheets. I can’t breathe against the hold he has on my throat, but that doesn’t stop me from trying. My mouth opens and closes. A goldfish in an ugly dress.

The slap across the face comes without warning. It’s sharp, leaving my cheek burning. Everything in my field of vision is shimmering slightly, a mirage I’m not sure is real.

“Let go.” Tyler says.

It feels like he’s yelling. His voice is loud in my ears, cutting over the high whine in my head. 

Black is starting to bite at the edges of my vision, inky splotches starting to spread over the ceiling behind Tyler’s head.

My legs are jerking underneath him. The panicked, desperate writhing of an animal in the slaughterhouse. I’m unwilling to really fight him or buck him off, but I can’t keep still.

“You’re still holding on,” Tyler says, and he slaps me again, just as hard, “Let go. Hit bottom, you fucking coward.”

My hands are still twitching. A criminal’s hands scrabbling at the arms of the electric chair. I can’t get them to stop, even as I try to force down the panic with the breath fluttering in my lungs. I can barely see Tyler’s face anymore. It all collapsed into TV static.

Apart from his eyes.

The blue of a natural reservoir before it’s raped by some conglomerate or other. An ocean before it’s choked by plastic.

Poor fucking turtles. Maybe we have more in common than I thought.

Just before I pass out, my eyelids drooping like a stroke victim, he lets go. I take in a pathetic, shuddering gasp, greedy for the oxygen Tyler deprived me of. 

One breath in, his hand is back, tighter this time.

I am Joe’s crushed esophagus.

This time I force myself not to move. I want to thrash around, but Tyler won’t let me. He’s watching me and waiting, waiting for me to fail him again.

I’m going to let go.

I’m going to hit bottom.

I’m totally zen and Tyler is welcome to do whatever he wants with his body.

Totally ZEN. You can choke me out and I’ll TAKE IT. I’m ENLIGHTENED and death doesn’t scare me. So ZEN. Even when Tyler is biting at his lips and pressing harder. This doesn’t bother me. I’m the zen master. I’m ENLIGHTENED. PAIN is NOTHING.

It’s only once my eyes roll back that Tyler lets go.

I don’t get to catch my breath before he kisses me again. His tongue is in my mouth and his teeth are digging into my lips and I breathe him like oxygen. He settles like dust in my lungs. Tyler rakes his nails down my chest, the pale skin left exposed by the low neckline of the dress. They’re neatly trimmed but they leave behind angry red lines. 

“Look at the princess,” Tyler says against my lips, “Getting all hot.”   
He’s not wrong. My heart is racing, I’m sure Tyler could feel my pulse with the hand on my neck. I feel like I’ll burn out of my skin. Tyler will warm himself with the flames.

“You like getting treated like a whore, huh?” 

Yes, I gasp.

Yes, I like it.

Please keep going.

Please fuck me.

I am Tyler’s whore.

Tyler digs his fingers into my face again, holding my jaw open, and he leans over me. And he spits. 

Straight into my open mouth.

I choke on the mouthful and struggle to swallow because Tyler doesn’t let me close my mouth. I’d be embarrassed by how quickly I swallowed it if it wasn’t what Tyler wanted. He grins and slaps me again. It seemed gentler but I couldn’t say. Maybe it was just his approval that softened the blow.

Then Tyler is shifting and shoving me over to lay on my front with a renewed sense of urgency. One of his hands is planted on the back of my neck and it presses me down into the mattress. The message is clear enough. I don’t move unless he wants me to.

I don’t do anything unless he wants me to.

Hell, I don’t breathe unless he wants me to.

Tyler knows what I need better than I do. He’s hit bottom, and he’s dragging me down with him. I don’t want to put up any resistance. I want Tyler to fuck me into the dirt and leave me there. Strip me bare and leave me ruined.

This isn’t a seminar.

I don’t want to recover.

Tyler’s other hand is pushing up the back of my skirts. The taffeta tickles my skin. I’m not wearing anything under the dress. If it worked for Marla, it can work for me. I hear Tyler suck in a breath through his teeth and let it out in a low whistle.

“You little fucking whore.” Tyler says.

He sounds impressed. I don’t question why that makes my heart race. I push my ass up and that makes him chuckle. 

“Poor baby. You need it bad, huh?” 

I nod. He slaps my ass, harsh enough to make my toes curl.

“Use your words, princess. I gotta know when I’ve fucked them out of you.”

I can hear the smug grin in Tyler’s voice.

Yes.

Yes, I need it bad.

I need you.

You know this already, I shouldn’t have to tell you. 

Just please fucking touch me already.

Tyler laughs and grips a handful of my hair. It’s a wonder there’s still most of it there. A typical move in a fight is to hold a guy by the hair as you slam your knuckles into the bloody lump of flesh that used to be his face. He drags my head up and I gasp, chills running down my spine. He takes advantage of my open mouth and shoves a couple of fingers in there.

“Suck.” Tyler says.

Everything Tyler says feels like an instruction and I’m always tripping over myself to follow. His fingers taste like tobacco and the brown sugar he pours into the soap and iron. It seems like there’s always blood under his fingernails. I don’t question it. God knows I have more blood on me than is appropriate nowadays.

I’m almost lost in the thought of how much blood constitutes appropriate when Tyler drags his fingers free. There’s drool on my lips and his fingers glisten in the sickly yellow light. Then he’s shoving my face back into the mattress.

There’s a long moment of pure nothing. I’m hanging in a strange form of suspended animation. I need Tyler to breathe life in me and make things real.

Please, Tyler. 

Please.

I need this.

I’m yours to take apart.

Please take me apart.

Please deliver me.

Tyler doesn’t give me a warning before he presses two slick fingers into me. Tyler doesn’t believe in warnings and I don’t want to ask for one. I grit my teeth on a groan, pressing my face hard into the mattress. My nose is sore from being broken more times than I care to count and the pain would be blinding if I could focus on it. I don’t want to focus on it. I want to focus on Tyler’s fingers, pressing deeper, knuckle-by-knuckle.

These are hands that break bone and leave men bruised. These are hands scarred with lye and a devil-may-care attitude with knives. These are the only hands I want to break me apart like this.

“Look at you. You’re all tight, princess.” Tyler says.

I won’t be when he’s finished with me. Sometimes I bleed, sometimes I don’t. Tyler doesn’t care and I want it to hurt. 

“You ever think about all those girls who got laid on prom night and spent their whole lives trying to feel that young again?”

It’s a question but it doesn’t sound like Tyler’s talking to me. Sometimes he muses aloud and I’m simply around to hear. It doesn’t make a difference to him.

“They let that guy ruin their whole lives, just for a quick fuck in his dad’s car.”

Tyler crooks his fingers and I groan, muscles in my thigh twitching. 

“But that’s what you’re doing too, huh?”

Tyler’s fingers are searching for something. Maybe he’ll find my soul in there.

“You’re letting me ruin your whole life. Am I that good, princess?”

Like you don’t already know that.

I want there to be nothing left of me when Tyler’s done.

Tyler fucks another finger into me and it burns and I’m sure that there will be nothing left of me. I whine like a stuck animal and he laughs, pushing his fingers deeper.

“Cute.”

It hurts. So much of me hurts nowadays and Tyler has taught me how to bask in it. I don’t shut it out anymore. I want to feel every single nerve ending scream as I try to accommodate his fingers. It feels good because it’s Tyler doing it.

Tyler dishing out pain feels eerily similar to communion.

Here is my body, expect it really belongs to Tyler.

Here is my blood, painted across my mouth like lipstick.

Tyler will devour it all.

It’s only when you’ve lost everything that you’re free to do anything.

Sometimes to lose everything, you have to have it ripped from you.

“Poor baby. You’re bleeding already.” Tyler says.

His voice is sweet as honey, cloying and sticking to my skin. This mock concern is common. It was the same concern he met me with when I told him about all of my burning furniture sailing out of my windows.

The man in the apartment. Jerking off to IKEA catalogues and buying sheet sets nobody else ever saw. He feels like a different person from lifetimes ago. The only thing I know now is Tyler. He’s taken over my life and I let him. I handed him the reins because I wanted it.

I still want it.

Take everything.

Take it.

“You think you can take it?” 

I need to.

I need this.

Tyler eases his fingers out of me, and it’s back to the overwhelming nothing. It’s a weird feeling. Being empty. The anticipation ties my stomach in knots. I’m trying not to twitch.

The sound of Tyler spitting into his palm and skin on skin. The hand that was on my neck goes to my hip, jerking me up to position me. I let him. I’d let him do anything.

Including split me open on his cock.

I am Joe’s ruined asshole.

Tyler groans from above me and dimly I think of God getting his dick wet. His fingers dig bruises into my hips as he pushes deeper, deeper, deeper. It hurts. It hurts like hell, and I lay there and take it. I take it because I’ll take anything Tyler gives me. A fist shattering my jaw, a tongue down my throat, a dick tearing my ass in two. I take it because I’m nothing but what Tyler makes me.

I am Tyler’s hole to fuck.

I am Tyler’s whore.

I don’t know if I’m making any sound. My head is full of white noise. All I can hear is Tyler. All I can feel is Tyler. 

I can’t tell where Tyler ends and I begin.

Does it matter?

Tyler grunts and swears above me, snapping his hips to a rhythm I can’t even try to make out. It sounds like we’re fighting and at the end of this I’ll be just as battered and bloody and bruised.

Please.

Please fuck me.

“You’re so fucking tight, Princess. I’m doing my best.”

Tyler sounds less than composed now. He’s breathless.

He grabs a handful of sickly pink skirt and drags me closer. All of me is limp. I couldn’t put up a fight if I wanted to and I don’t want to. 

It’s when Tyler fucks me that I feel true enlightenment. Nothing has ever hurt like this, nothing will ever hurt like this. A pain that makes me shake and makes my eyes sting with tears and makes me moan myself hoarse. I can categorise my life as Before Tyler Fucked Me and After Tyler Fucked Me. I don’t want to go back to Before.

All that exists is After.

Tyler fists a hand into my hair and tugs. It’s vicious and I have no choice but to follow it up. The angle lets him fuck me deeper. I think I’m crying out but I can’t tell. It doesn’t matter anyway.

Is this what Marla feels like? 

In any case, I know why she’s so fucking loud. I couldn’t shut up if I tried.

Take it, baby.

Let him use you.

Tyler fucks into me like a man on death row. Desperate, brutal, like he might never have anything wet and warm around his cock again.

Does he know I’d let him fuck me whenever he asked?

“I know, baby.”

He’ll always have me, needy for it. Bending over the nearest flat surface if he wanted me to. He makes the most of the silent agreement and I have to keep myself from asking for more.

“You like it, huh? You like being a fucking whore?”

I can’t nod properly with his hand in my hair but I try anyway. He slaps my ass and I imagine the red handprint.

Yes.

I fucking like it.

I am Tyler’s whore.

He said he wanted to fuck the words out of me. I don’t think he’ll have to try for much longer.

I think I’m babbling but I can’t tell. I never can tell. Who I am when Tyler fucks me is not who I am normally, and it’s not who I am at fight club. Here I need to lose. Here I need to leave myself open for the taking.

“I’ve barely started and you’re already begging,” Tyler says, “So fucking pathetic.”

If anyone fucked you like you were fucking me, I say, you’d be begging too.

Tyler’s hand settles on my throat. I don’t know if I’m grateful that he isn’t ripping my hair out or wary that he’s going to cut off my breathing. It doesn’t matter anyway. Tyler can do what he wants and he knows I won’t try to stop him.

“Maybe I should fuck you harder.”

I almost fall forward with the force Tyler drives his cock into me. I struggle to breathe and he isn’t even crushing my windpipe yet.

“You’re being pretty fucking smart with me. Am I not good enough, princess?”

I can feel him in my throat. My lips part on words that have already died in my mouth.

Tyler doesn’t let up. He’s fucking me hard enough to make my eyes water. I rest my hands on the arm wrapped around my chest, digging my nails into the muscle corded under the skin. 

“What’s up, baby?”

The honey is back, this time right by my ear. His breath is hot, coming in short pants.

“You got nothing to say now?”

I don’t know if Tyler expects an answer from me. I can’t give him one if he does. 

It sounds like we’re fighting. The packing sound of skin hitting skin. Heavy breathing. But it doesn’t feel like we’re fighting.

It hurts, but it isn’t the kind caused by a fist driven into my ribs. And there isn’t the same clarity.

When you fight, you realise that nothing matters. It’s the most perfect, potent hit of nihilism. Nothing matters and you’re in control.

Here, I can’t form a coherent thought and I know I’m not in control. I don’t want to be in control. Whores aren’t in control.

There’s a rush of movement, and my face is being pressed into the mattress. I would care more if I could care at all. The mattress is filthy and the sheets have slipped. There’ll be a nice spot of drool to accompany all of the stains.

I think Tyler is talking, but I can’t make out what he’s saying.

I think I’m talking, but I can’t make out what I’m saying.

Some people lose themselves in prayer, I lose myself in begging for Tyler’s dick.

We all have something to worship.

I cry out and the sound cuts through the fog in my head. Tyler wraps a hand around my cock.

I’ve been hard since he first put his hands around my throat. 

Please.

Please, please, please.

“Shut up.”

Tyler’s voice is low and hoarse. He’s getting close. He only ever touches me when he’s ready for things to end. 

I can’t shut up. I think I’m crying. My face doesn’t feel wet, but my chest is heaving and it sounds like Tyler’s laughing through a clenched jaw. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“You ready, princess?”   
I give a dazed moan in answer. He can make of that what he will. He doesn’t make me give him a real answer.

“I’m gonna knock up the prom queen. You waited all night for this and I’m gonna fucking ruin your life.”

Please.

It’s yours to ruin, you know that.

Ruin me.

May life never be better than this.

May I never be complete when I don’t have your dick in me.

Please.

Tyler’s hips jerk once, twice, and he’s filling me up. The hand on my cock doesn’t still and it doesn’t take many more pumps for me to follow suit, clumsily fucking into his fist.

Everything burns white. Everything hurts. Everything feels so good.

I can’t breathe.

I don’t care.

I don’t know how long Tyler leaves me laying there before he pulls out. I groan, hands twitching in the sheets. There’s something leaking out down the inside of my thigh. I don’t know whether it’s blood or cum and I don’t care. Tyler traces a finger over my skin and turns my face to hold it to my mouth. I suck mindlessly. It tastes like salt and copper, which doesn’t narrow it down.

The weight on the bed shifts, and I think it’s Tyler standing up. I hear him snort as he looks down at me.

“You look real pretty, sweetheart.”

Face down on the bed, dress pushed up to show off my ass. Flushed, cross-eyed.

“Get some sleep.”

That’s all Tyler leaves me with before he walks out and closes the door.

I can’t fight my heavy eyelids.

Babies don’t sleep this well.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos always appreciated.


End file.
